Page 39 of Scribe

They rattled around in there like some pinball machine, blaring ‘my woman’ repeatedly as if she were some prize.

Oh, she was a prize, that was for sure, but I didn’t want a woman.

I was happy with things as they were.

Besides, I didn’t know shit about Henley Never. All I knew was that she was a shy woman who lived alone. Had a pet rat, a mean ass sister who was going to castrate me the second she found out I wanted to defile and corrupt her little sister. Oh, and she reads erotic romance to people on the internet. Okay, I knew more than that, like the fact she loved to walk around naked and spy on others while they were skinny-dipping. Then there was her kindness to Cameron. For that alone, the woman deserved a fucking medal. And she was blind as a bat without her glasses.

She was also the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She smelled like fresh snow in an evergreen forest. Her smile made my heartbeat faster and when she spoke, goose bumps erupted all over my body.

That wasn’t enough to form a relationship.

Was it?

Shaking off the thought, I reached across the bar and grabbed myself another beer.

“Problem, Scribe?”

“No.”

Enigma leaned on the bar and grinned. “Come on, brother. Talk to Enigma. What’s going on in that fucked-up head of yours?”

“He’s pondering the repercussions of a relationship.”

Groaning, I banged my head on the bar a few times as Freyja continued her descriptive interpretation of my mood. “Seriously, Dimeter. Stop fighting it. It will only make things worse for you.”

“I’m not fighting anything.”

“Liar.” My sister laughed. “Oh, and Enigma. I had fun last night. We should do it again soon.”

“What?” My head snapped up, looking at the man behind the bar. The man I considered a brother. A brother I would die for. But I couldn’t have heard my sister correctly because if I did, then that meant my brother was making a move on my sister.

“My pleasure, Freyja. Anytime, babe.” The soon-to-be-dead-brother smiled.

As soon as my sister was out of the room, I reached across the bar and grabbed Enigma’s cut and pulled him toward me. “What the fuck was that about, asshole?”

“You said to woo her, dickhead,” Enigma growled, pushing me off him, righting his cut.

“I said woo, not fuck.”

Enigma rolled his eyes. “Jesus fuck, Scribe. It was dinner. Not breakfast in bed. What is your problem? You’ve been on a hair trigger lately. Do you need to get laid?”

“No,” I grumbled, getting to my feet. “I don’t need to get laid.”

Hmm...

Then again... maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

Reaching for my phone, I sent off a text before I snatched up my keys and left the clubhouse.

Chapter Fourteen

Scribe

“Scribe. It’s not the end of the world,” Sugar said sweetly, scooting off the bed as she wrapped a robe around her. “So, you couldn’t get it up. It happens to men all the time.”

“Not to me,” I grumbled, looking at my flaccid cock.

This was a fucking nightmare!

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